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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28390935">Adore You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentzsz/pseuds/violentzsz'>violentzsz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Strange Trio, Aren’t They? [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Evil Within (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:55:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28390935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentzsz/pseuds/violentzsz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A murdered family and being thrown around between foster families and orphanages and mental institutions before the age of eighteen; flames, so many flames, a burned corpse lying in a hospital bed, scars that still burned sometimes; an accident that took away an eye and left a gaping hole in a beautiful face, shredded corpses, gun shots, gun shots, gun shots.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leslie Withers/Ruben “Ruvik” Victoriano/Stefano Valentini, Ruben "Ruvik" Victoriano/Leslie Withers, Stefano Valentini/Leslie Withers, Stefano Valentini/Ruben "Ruvik" Victoriano</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Strange Trio, Aren’t They? [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Adore You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stefano remembered the day they met, clear as day and twice as bright. The public gallery at the park was packed with college students writing critiques for classes, and high school art teachers with their students scattered about. He’d felt like he’d seen them all a dozen times, and maybe he had; he was no stranger to public galleries, or private galleries, or any sort of gallery, really. Part of him preferred the public galleries, for the art students prying him for tips and the teachers making idle conversation, and the lack of men in expensive suits offering insultingly low prices for a piece or two. </p><p>He saw them, first, over the shoulder of a particularly charming and chatty college boy who seemed far more interested in taking him home than the paintings; they stopped beside his table, hand in hand, and whispered softly to each other as they inspected a canvas. Two men, one slightly taller and wearing a black hoodie and beanie, despite it being the middle of August; the other slightly shorter, with snowy white hair and the fairest complexion he’d ever seen. They turned and came closer, and Stefano noticed that the taller man’s face and hands were marred with burn scars, his eyes catlike and haunting, and the two of them were so intensely unique and beautiful that he found himself longing to know them.</p><p>He was no longer paying attention to the chatty college boy, for those haunting eyes had turned and locked onto his own, and when he pulled his gaze away it was immediately captured by an equally haunting gaze of sweet, pale violet. They walked closer and he met them halfway.</p><p>They talked. They exchanged numbers. Even before their first date, Ruben and Leslie had wrapped him around their fingers without any intention of letting him go. Within a year, Stefano was living with two boyfriends, one quiet and sweet, the other obnoxiously sassy and sporting a real attitude, but he would do anything for either of them, he knew that much. They were his muses. </p><p>Ruben had a love for art that he wouldn’t admit, but Stefano would go outside to take pictures and often find him sitting by the flowerbeds around the estate, sketching every petal with such care and detail that he would sit, out of Ruben’s way, and photograph him surrounded by the flora. Leslie liked to finger paint, as a form of art therapy recommended by his therapist. His pieces were abstract most of the time, layers of geometric shapes on organic shapes on crudely drawn images of eyes and hands and faces, and it was so unlike anything Stefano had ever seen. He talked Leslie into displaying some of his pieces at local galleries (which won him both praise and an award or two, and did a lot of good for his confidence).</p><p>They were a weird trio, and more than once they’d all lied awake at night, crying together and sharing their traumas and their nightmares and their fears. A murdered family and being thrown around between foster families and orphanages and mental institutions before the age of eighteen; flames, so many flames, a burned corpse lying in a hospital bed, scars that still burned sometimes; an accident that took away an eye and left a gaping hole in a beautiful face, shredded corpses, gun shots, gun shots, gun shots. They were strange, and they were hurt, but they were there to wipe away each other’s tears or sit together until the panic attack subsided. </p><p>With the pain came the healing, though, and the bad days were few and far between. Stefano would wake up to Leslie sprawled obnoxiously in the bed, pushing him uncomfortably close to the edge, and Ruben ripping the curtains open to blind him with rays of morning sunlight. Ruben was late to bed and early to rise, and Stefano wondered constantly how the guy kept functioning, if you could call pouring over studies and papers and lab work functioning. Leslie, who always seemed perpetually well-rested in the morning, would stretch his arms wide, sometimes hitting Stefano in the face with a bony hand, other times exposing the pale expanse of his stomach from under his cotton night shirt, and either way Stefano would be captured by the domestic beauty of it all.</p><p>They made breakfast together on most days, none of them ever too busy with their personal works for each other. Ruben had a worrying affinity for pancakes, and Leslie was no better, but occasionally Stefano could sit them down for a proper breakfast, even if watching Leslie cover his eggs in ketchup and Ruben dip his sausage and bacon into maple syrup gave him a headache. </p><p>Ruben worked from home, despite not having to. His father had left him a large sum of money when he passed, but he claimed that work kept him busy and gave him something to do. Leslie liked to paint and knit, two hobbies he’d picked up by his therapist’s suggestion, but his personal favorite pastime was playing video games. Stefano enjoyed watching him, despite what his offhand comments on the art styles would tell you.</p><p>He got used to their routines, when they ate, when they worked, when they slept, the days and times when they would drive Leslie to therapy, and he got used to Ruben’s mood swings and Leslie’s sensory meltdowns, and they got used to him, too, and his “pretentiousness,” as Ruben put it, and his desire for attention and validation that bordered on obsessive at times.</p><p>They were a strange trio, and somehow, that worked just fine.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A super rare trio that just works. They all deserve happiness. Here’s some fluff. xoxo</p></blockquote></div></div>
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